


Stitches

by edourado



Series: Hell's Kitchen Chronicles [63]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, NSFW, Oneshot, Romance, Smut, Smuttish, Tumblr Prompt, karedevil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 23:10:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10398240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edourado/pseuds/edourado
Summary: Karen gets injured after meeting a source. Luckily, New York's favorite vigilante is good with a needle





	

It was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Karen ran into him (she didn't believe that for a second, but he was keeping to his story), he hid while she talked to her source, said source had to be a dick and make a move on her, Matt  _ just had  _ to come out and be the hero. And then there was a gun, a shot up, her source tripping on his own feet to get away from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, pushing her out of his way, straight on top of a pile of construction scraps. 

She was on heels, after all. When reaching out to hold on to something, to stop her fall, she scrapped her hand, scratched her elbow and tore her skirt. Right on her ass. A metal rod punctured her, making her muffle a scream between her teeth. 

And, as luck would have it, it was a deep cut. She would need stitches. Luckily for her - or not - Matt knew how to do them. 

That's how Karen found herself lying on her stomach on Matt’s couch, ass up, her ruined skirt folded on the other chair, by her purse. 

And she was not happy about it. 

Of course she tried to argue. 

“You're not gonna stitch me up, Matt”, she had said, trying not to wince at the wound that kept bleeding and stinging like a bitch.

“Come on, Karen”, he argued, voice careful. The air between them was still heavy, after his revelation, all those months ago, about his identity. “It'll be faster than the hospital. Probably neater, too.”

She ended up agreeing, because it really hurt and she really, really didn't feel like waiting in a hospital ER. So she walked the three blocks to his apartment while he ran there over the roofs, opening the door for her when she arrived. 

And now here he was, sitting on the floor, mask off, rest of the suit on, opening up a first aid kit. And she was lying on his couch in her shirt and underwear. 

And his expression was too pleasant for someone about to sew her ass cheek back together. That little smirk was there. She knew it well. 

“If it makes you feel any better”, he said while she looked at him, supporting her head on one of her hands. “I can't see you.”

“Considering the extension of everything you can do without sight, no, it does not make me feel any better.”

She was still angry at him. Angry at the lies, the mess he had made of their firm, about that woman she found in his bed. She was still angry. 

Daredevil was easier to forgive than finding a woman in his bed. His ex-girlfriend, no less. A beautiful, amazing, incredible woman who knew every little thing about him, who got his attention even while he was still with her, with Karen, who made him walk out on her, on Foggy, on their work. 

Yes, she was still angry. 

“Ok. This is going to sting”, he warned before touching a wad of cotton embedded in alcohol, or medicine, or something. 

“Oh, shit!”, she jumped and he had the nerve to laugh. “It’s not funny!”

“You’re right”, he said, trying to school his face into a serious expression, but breaking into a smile when she winced again. 

“Matt. I swear to you that I will walk right out of here.”

“Sorry. Sorry, I’m sorry”, he sighed, moved to wipe the remaining blood again, but stopped. “Do you want a drink? It’s what I can offer, in way of anesthesia.”

She looked at his face, which was looking a little too innocent. 

“What you got?”

“Whisky.”

She rolled her eyes, not knowing exactly why.

“Ok.”

He got up and came back with a bottle and a glass for her. 

Right before he pierced her skin, he reached out for the bottle. She gave it to him and he took a sip from it while she emptied her glass. 

When he was finishing, she was three glasses in, downing the liquid like it was water and she was parched, looking at the that ridiculous billboard spilling light into his living room. 

“Almost done”, he said, gauze absorbing the blood that would trickle down from her wound. “Turn for me a bit.”

And then he closed his big hand on her ass, to guide her wound to a better position.

She closed her eyes and hid her lips, eyeing as he frowned, going back to stitching her up.

“I didn’t know Daredevil was this handsy”, she said, refilling, because… Because.

He smirked, the bastard. 

“Well, it’s not my fault you got pushed on a pile of sharp scraps, ass first.”

“Debatable.”

His hand was lower, now, on her thigh, right at the curve of her butt, bringing her leg closer to him. 

“Is it ironic that this is the first time I’m touching your butt, even though we dated?”

“Oh my God, Matt, stop!” she said, and she could feel her cheeks blushing, so she hid her face in her hands while he chuckled. 

“I’m just asking”, she winced again when he tugged at the thread. “You’re blushing.”

“Of course I’m blushing! You’re sewing my ass!”

His smile was so big and Karen was equal parts angry at it, embarrassed and amused by this absurd situation. 

“I’m trying to help.”

“You’re not helping at all. I’m still not sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I do know what I’m doing. But I’ll tell you what. If you’re displeased with the results, Miss Page, you can go to the hospital and have them redone.”

She lied there, twisted around to look at him behind her, her ass bare right there in front of his face. 

And maybe it was the liquor talking, but he looked so good. 

(It wasn’t the booze. Karen had found him attractive from day one, no alcohol necessary.)

She had never seen him in his suit, without his mask. Even after he told her, she managed to keep Matt and Daredevil somewhat separate, in her mind. Now, though, while he sat there on the floor of his apartment, dressed from neck to toe as New York’s favorite vigilante, but with Matt’s face, unseeing eyes and hair sticking up everywhere, hands weaving that tiny needle and thread through her skin, there was no separating them. 

He looked amazing. Really, really amazing. 

“Ok”, he said, voice suspiciously lower. “Done.”

She made to get up, but he stopped her - with his hand on her uninjured butt cheek, mind you - and got up himself. 

“You stay put. I’ll get some ice.”

Karen can’t think if recently stitched wounds needed icing or not, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she tipped the bottle over her glass one more time. 

On his way back, Matt dropped two ice cubes in her glass, walking around the couch to resume his spot on the floor. 

In front of her ass.

Karen hissed when he placed the ice pack on top of her stitches, the cold startling her. His hands had been warm. 

“Sorry about your skirt”, he said, taking the glass from her, taking a sip, giving it back. 

“Don’t worry about it. It was a three for $20 deal at Forever21. No love lost there.”

“I liked it”, he said “It hugged you” - here, he motioned with his hand, forming the general shape of hips - “Nicely”.

“How would  _ you _ know?” she asked, moving to rest her head on her arm. Her elbow started complaining the position of supporting her upper body up. 

“I  _ heard _ it”, he said, almost challenging. “Every time you wore one of these to the office. They were my favorites.”

“Oh, shut up”, she said, feeling that heat creeping up her neck again, meaning that her face was red once more. 

“It’s true”, he shrugged, taking another sip from her cup. If they kept on like this, they were gonna be wasted in no time. He grinned when handing the glass back to her. “You’re blushing again.”

“Yes, we’ve established that this is gonna happen as long as my ass is bare. Speaking of which, can you just-” she moved to pull him by the arm, so his face wouldn’t be  _ right there _ . Sighing, he scooted closer to her face. “Thanks.”  

"There was one day”, he went on, now sitting in front of her face. “You wore a garter.”

Karen stopped, the glass halfway to her lips. 

"You- you could-”

“Oh yes. It was the best day. Also the worst. I couldn’t get anything done.”

Chuckling, she turned her face and drained the glass again. 

“How come you only wore it once?”

“Because it itches”, she answered, setting the glass on the floor.

“Hmm. Yeah. You kept fidgeting on your chair”, he said, blinking slowly, and she could almost see that memory coming to the front of his brain. 

“You kept paying attention to what was going on inside my skirt instead of doing your job?” she asked, and she went for a reprimanding tone, but the notion - as invasive and unsettling as it was - that he could see and feel her that way, even from behind a wall and two desks had her lips curving up. 

He nodded, turning his face towards hers. 

“Couldn't help it.”

Could he tell that she was trying not to shiver at the sound of his voice? 

“I had to leave the office at one point.”

She tried to remember.

“You said you were going to get coffee.”

“I did. But it was just because you kept rubbing your thighs together, I needed a few minutes of peace.”

Suddenly, Karen realized his face was very close to hers. Casting her eyes down, she looked at the collar of his suit, the way the red material contrasted with his skin, the stubble on his chin and jaw, lips that had felt so good on hers, once upon a time. 

“I wore them for a date”, she informed him, watching his eyes.

“Did you?”

“Yeah. I had dinner with Steve that night-”

“Ah, Steve. Yeah, I remember him.”

“You never met him.”

“No. But I remember him. Smelled of cigarettes.”

She closed her eyes for a second. 

“You followed me on my dates?”

“No. He went to pick you up at the office once. I got curious.”

Because he was so close and looked very good, she decided not to comment on the invasion of privacy. 

“How come you took it off?” he asked.

“It scratched too much”, she replied. “My thighs were red for two days.”

“Hmm”. Turning his face away from her, Matt’s eyes seemed to land on the ice pack still on top of her butt. “Were they?”

“Yes. I had to apply lotion every night for a week.”

He smiled again, slow, just a stretch of those lips, and turned his face towards hers again. He was closer, but she didn’t see him leaning in. 

“Strawberry scented?”

Her turn to smile, that familiar feeling simmering inside her. The same feeling that had driven her to invite him up after their first date.

“How do you know that?”

“Kinda hard to miss it when you walk into my office and your legs smell like fruit.”

The tip of his nose touched hers and his hand - gloves off - touched her hip, feather light, going up to her back, hesitating on the curve of her butt, where the ice pack was still balanced. 

“You had to leave the office then, too?” she asked, almost a whisper, studying his face. It was not often that she got to look at his features up close, anymore. 

“Yes, I did.”

“Then you missed it when I reapplied it.”

Matt closed his eyes and she touched her lips to one of his eyelids. 

“Is that why it smelled stronger when I came back?”

“Mm-hmm.” She continued the exploration of his face, dragging her lips down his temple, poking her tongue out to touch his jaw when she reached it, and the hand he had on her tightened around the ice pack, moving it a bit away from her stitches, pressing it down on her. “But I remember you being there, once.”

He didn’t say anything, just angled his face towards hers a bit more, pressing a kiss on her cheek. 

“You and Foggy were in a meeting with that client, Mr. Mercer, that actually paid with money. Remember?”

He nodded, letting his hand fall from the ice pack and touch her bare skin. Karen rolled her hips up slightly, into his hand. 

“And I needed to sit with you and take notes, but Foggy asked for the files. So I got up to get them, but took a little detour to the bathroom.”

“Why?” He asked softly, and touched his mouth to her neck, running his lips on a small patch of skin, his hand traveling down, stopping on the top of her thigh.

“Because it was itching a little”, she answered, her own hand touching his cheek, traveling down to his neck, shoulder, following the length of his arm until she reached his hand on her, squeezing it, smiling when he responded by squeezing the flesh of her thigh. “And I didn't want to sit through the meeting with an important client and be squirming on my chair the whole time. You didn't hear me in there?”

“I was purposely not paying attention. Like you said, important client.” Here, his tongue poked out and touched her skin, like she had done with his jaw. “What did you do in there?”

“Well. It was not very complicated. I needed to be quick, so I just lifted my skirt and rubbed some lotion on.”

Opening his mouth, he scraped his teeth on her skin, letting out a huff of breath. 

“It was a bit cold, but it felt good.”

“Did it?”

“Yes. If I didn't have to go back out, I would probably have spent a few minutes in there.”

“With your skirt on your hips.”

“And strawberry lotion on my thighs.”

She wondered if it was just the alcohol, making her move her head so he could better work his lips on her neck, move her hips to better enjoy that hand and close her eyes at how the little moans he was letting out seemed only to make her feel like she had a temperature. 

When he moved his head back so he could kiss her, she remembered all the times she caught herself thinking about him, when she was actually supposed to be mad. She was mad, but she also missed him. A whole lot. And she knew he regretted that their relationship ended so soon. 

Plus. They were both grown ups. 

And then she stopped thinking, focusing on his tongue against hers, the hand that now pulled on her leg, on how he was sliding on the floor, mouth away from hers, towards her hips again. 

And then she was arching her back, lying sideways on the couch, facing his bedroom, her left leg curled and resting on his left shoulder, knee bent behind his neck, a chunk of his hair tight on her fist, his face between her legs, strong hand sneaking inside her shirt, bypassing her bra and squeezing, while the other kept her hips still for him. 

With the hand that wasn't on his hair, Karen got a hold of his wrist, not trying to remove his hand from inside her shirt, and focused on her breathing. Holy hell, he was good at that. Probably way too good, if the way she needed to hide her face to muffle the sounds coming from her was any indication. 

When she did that, he did remove his hand from inside her bra, closing his fingers around her throat instead, and she understood he wanted to… Feel her voice, since she was making it hard for him to hear it. 

She shivered and she moaned and she twisted on the leather cushions of his couch. He adjusted and held her down, hand going from firm, to keep her where he wanted her, to tender, delivering caresses to her neck, her cheek, down her chest to her stomach and up again, to feel the vibrations of her vocal cords as she reacted to what he was doing with his mouth. 

He was too good at that. Way too good. Karen was enjoying herself too much to end it this quickly. And, if she kept at it, this was going to be over too soon. And, frankly, that would be a bummer.

“Wait, Matt, wait, wait, stop, come here”, she asked in a whisper, pulling on his wrist, reaching down to tug on his other hand, the one keeping her hips down. 

He did stop. Long enough for her to lie on her back and try and catch her breath. Getting to his feet, Matt walked to the far end of the couch, where her feet were. 

“Watch your stitches”, he said, and his voice alone could send her over that edge she was avoiding. Avoiding because maybe, when she went over it, she would sober up and all this fun would be over, maybe. And she liked this, this reckless thing, going with what she was feeling right now, ignoring the voice of reason. Acting like a teenager, not thinking about tomorrow. 

(But, if she was being honest, the sober part of her was hoping that this would go on tomorrow.)

“I'm good”, she said while he smiled down at her and bent his knee over the arm of the couch, his hand closing around her left ankle. 

“Are you?” 

She nodded, biting her lower lip as she ran her eyes down his body, surrendering to the amazing feeling that it was, indeed, Daredevil that had just gone down on her. Stop pretending that she hadn't been fantasizing about this since the first time she saw him. 

“Come here”, Karen asked him, reaching out her arms to him, but he leaned forward, accepting a caress on his face, but lowering his mouth to her stomach, kissing and nibbling.

“In a minute”, he said, lifting her hips and carefully removing the underwear he had, until now, swept to the side. “I'm busy now.”

After that, she shut her eyes tight and tried not to shout when he resumed his ministrations. She was trying to breathe through it when he turned his face and bit on her inner thigh, making her let out a surprised little yelp.

“Let me hear you, please.”

“I will if you get out of this suit”, she breathed out, both hands caressing his hair. “And come here.”

“But I'm having fun.”

She laughed and felt the kisses he placed on one thigh, then the other, before going back to work.

“Matt”, she called, but it came out as a moan, which was exactly what he wanted. 

His hands left her hips, sliding up while he scooted up on the couch, her legs over his shoulders, feet resting on his back. Fast and capable fingers started undoing her buttons. 

“Matt, please, please”, even as she said it, she arched her back and rolled her hips towards him, feeling as her legs began to shake. “Please, stop, come up here.”

“It's not good?” he asked, lifting his face from her and she missed him immediately, but she wanted something else. 

“Yes, it’s good, but I need you out of this suit, now, please.”

He let out what sounded like a self satisfied chuckle, moving to get up, ending up sitting on his heels with her legs on each side of him, that lazy, cocky smile appeared again while she ran her eyes over him. 

“You're blushing again.”

She couldn't help the smile. 

“And who's fault is that?”

“Mine?” He asked while advancing again, quickly picking up the bottle from the floor and taking a long swig from it before moving forward to lie on top of her, kissing her slowly but intensely. 

“Yes, yours. And off, I said I want this off.”

He kicked his boots off and maneuvered to kiss her at the same time, and she held him with hands and arms and legs, looking for something, maybe like a zipper or a clasp. 

His boots were off and his hand was on her hip again, bringing it up towards his while he kissed her more intensely than ever, when there was a knock on the door. 

Karen felt herself freezing, but he didn’t stop for a second. 

“Ignore it”, he instructed, sneaking his hand inside her bra again, and Karen was not about to question that decision. 

But then:

“Matt? You in there? I need your help”. 

She knew that voice. And so did Matt, if the way he groaned in frustration was any indication. Danny Rand. 

“Ward’s being a dick again.”

“Oh, god damnit”, Matt breathed on top of her. “He’ll leave.”

No, he wasn’t. Danny kept knocking and Karen ended up laughing, holding Matt’s face and kissing him for a moment longer before pulling away. 

“He has an Iron Fist. He’s gonna knock all night.”

He sighed and touched his forehead to her collarbone, dropping small kisses right after, lower and lower until he was biting on the fabric of her bra and she had to stop him again. 

“Matt! Come on, man, open up!”

“Go deal with that.”

“No, I don’t want to.”

“I’ll head home and, uh… Lick my wounds”, she joked and he actually smiled, raising his face again, and she felt her heart tighten, looking at him so closely again after all this time. 

“I can do that for you.”

“No you can’t. You have defender business to handle.” With another small, slow, lingering kiss to his lips, she decided. “Come find me when you’re done.”

Here, his expression changed. 

“I’m gonna take you up on that, Karen”, he said, almost in a warning. 

“Ok.”

“Don’t think that I’m not gonna show up. I will.”

“I sure hope so.”

He still lied there on top of her for a few seconds, his thinking face on. 

“You could stay. I’ll deal with him and send him away, you can wait for me in my room.”

“Hmm, no. I have to go home.”

“Give me thirty minutes?”

“ _ Maaatt! _ ”

With a peck and two taps on his arms, she started to move.

“You have an hour to come finish what you started.”

Getting up, she took deep breaths to steady herself and picked her skirt up from the chair. Putting it on, she twisted around to look at the damage and frowned at the blood stain by the tear on the fabric. Luckily, her coat would cover it.

While she buttoned up again, Matt stood and put his arm around her, breathing into her hair, swaying both of them a little. 

“Please stay.”

“No.” Turning around, she caressed his face and ducked away from a kiss when he leaned in. “One hour. And then I don’t open the door and I'll finish it myself.”

Danny was knocking again when she opened the door. 

“Final-”

“Hi Danny”, she greeted, cheerfully.

He blinked at her.

“Oh, Karen, hi! I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“It’s ok. He’s all yours. Good night!”

She closed the door behind her and focused on walking down the stairs without tripping on her heels. After giving her address to the driver, she sighed and tried to not smile like a teenager. 

She could still feel the burn of his stubble between her legs. Her stitches were numb from the ice and the alcohol, her fingers were still tingling with sensation, her skin was still warm and her lips were still feeling the pressure of his. She was still incredibly keyed up, tettering there over that edge she didn't let him push her over.

Karen hoped he didn’t take long.  

**Author's Note:**

> What you think?


End file.
